The Night Orchid

by M. G. Hernandez

  “Jo!”

  My heart stops upon hearing Julian, but my legs refuse to oblige, and I walk faster.

  “Jo, wait up!”

  I put my hoodie on as if it will block his voice, but he catches up to me. I keep walking, but his hand lands on my shoulder, forcing me to stop.

  “Will you hit the brakes for a sec?” he said. “Geez.”

  I sigh, and I turn to face him. He’s wearing a fitted chambray shirt and faded black jeans. His wavy blond hair looks extra messy today, giving him that cute bed head look. My heart plummets to the ground.

  “Are you avoiding me?” he asks, looking worried.

  Yes. “No.”

  “Are you sure? Coz I, practically, had to run a marathon just to talk to you.”

  I shrug his hand off me. “I have to catch up on my assignments.”

  “You’re talking like you were absent for an entire month. You missed a day, Jo.”

  “Whatever.” I turn away from him, but he grabs my hand before I could leave. “Jules, I’m gonna be late for class. Let go.”

  “We’re going to the same class. Relax,” he said. “What’s going on? You agreed to meet me outside the cafeteria, but you never came. You didn’t even respond to my texts.”

  I sigh. “It’s nothing, ok? I’m trying to get shit done.”

  He takes a deep breath and releases my hand. “I just want to talk to you.”

  Julian discusses his relationship with Bianca, his friendship with me, and something about struggling to find what’s missing. I half listen because something red and swollen on his neck catches my eye. I squint for a better look. Then I gasp. It’s a hickey.

  “Jo?” he stops. “Are you listening?”

  I fume. The small percentage of me wanting to give him the benefit of a doubt goes out the window. That red mark confirms Bianca’s story, and it’s a glaring reminder to keep this partnership the same—a working relationship. Once we solve this mystery with Alexa, we’re done.

  “Oh, yeah.” I narrow my eyes. “I’m totally listening.”

  He smiles. “The bell is about to ring. Can we finish this conversation later? After your shift? I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “I’ll be busy.”

  His eyes widen with surprise. Then he frowns. “Busy with what?”

  I glare. “Just because I’m not Mr. Big Shot doesn’t mean I don’t have a life.”

  He winces. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. What are you doing tonight?”

  “I have a date.” I turn around and leave.

  He grabs my hand again. “With whom?”

  “None of your business.”

  He growls. Then, his eyes land on the scribbles on my arm. He leans closer to read the writing on my skin. As soon as it registers, he reddens. “You’re going on a date with Jordan? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I warm up with anger. “No, I’m not kidding! I’m having dinner with him, and I’m going to have an awesome time!”

  “You barely know the guy!”

  “That’s what the date is for!” I yell back. Then I add, “And who the hell are you to judge? You said you’re done with your girlfriend, but you can’t even break up with her!”

  He pauses. “What are you talking about? Bianca and I are over.”

  “Yeah, I can tell by that hickey on your neck.”

  His hand covers the mark, and he curses. “It’s not what it looks like, Jo.”

  “No? So, she somehow tripped, and her teeth landed on your neck?”

  “Ok, maybe we made out a little, but nothing more.”

  “Look, I don’t care what you do with her,” I lie. “She’s your girlfriend, but I would appreciate it if you leave my love life alone!”

  Then, to save my dignity, I spin around and leave—for the fourth time. He follows, of course.

  “Joy, please. Let’s talk about this.”

  I stop. “Julian, my life is already a mess. I don’t need to complicate it even more. My parents will return soon, and they’ll place me back on house arrest. Let’s finish what we started with Alexa and then move on with our lives, ok?”

  Julian’s face reddens. I know he wants to say something, but he takes a deep breath and purses his lips. Three and a half years ago, I made a similar rejection, and my heart breaks that I’m doing it again. But my plate is full, and it will drop if I add more.

  He runs his fingers through his hair and avoids my gaze. “Fine. I’ll see you in class.” Then he turns the opposite direction and walks away.

  I hang my head low. This day started with potential, but it ended being the worst. Is it time to go home, yet?

  Chapter 41

  Julian

  I slam my bedroom door harder than I meant to, causing my mother to yell at me from the kitchen. School sucked royally today.

  I woke up a beast this morning, excited to spend my first day as a single guy. Of course, I hadn’t expected to stay single for long. I had one person in mind when I jumped out of bed, and she was the same person who broke my heart at lunchtime.

  My phone rings, and I furrow my brows when I see the name on the screen. It’s Brandon. We have spoken little since our falling out, so I wonder what brought him to call me.

  “Yo.” I respond as if we never stopped talking to each other. While I wait for his response, I peek out my window and convince myself I’m not trying to sneak at my neighbor.

  “Wassup, bro,” he said. “You killed it at the meet today. That’s gotta be the best out of all your swimming career, man!”

  “Uh-huh,” I replied. Joy’s bedroom light escapes in between her curtains. I wonder if she’s getting ready for her date. The veins in my neck throbs. Of all the guys to choose, she had to pick the biggest player in our school.

  Meanwhile, Brandon continues to sing praises on my butterfly strokes which, I have to admit, is a thing of beauty. “Yeah, thanks, bro.”

  I take off my shirt and shoes and strip to my joggers. I fall to my bed and let the comfort of my mattress melt away the aches and pains. We had a swim meet today, and I dominated in the heats, winning all of them. Brandon was a solid second. We won against Centerville High. But I’m still the biggest loser in today’s story.

  “Listen,” he said. “I learned you and Bianca broke up.”

  I wince. “Is the rumor mill focused on our breakup now?”

  “No, Bianca told me. To be honest, she doesn’t seem to be interested in spreading that news.”

  “Why not? It’s true, anyway. We are completely done.”

  “I dunno, man,” he responds. “You’re familiar with how she is. She’s a sore loser, so she’ll always wants to win the game.”

  “This isn’t a game, bro. This is my life. I’m not playing with her and pretending we’re still together. If anyone asks, I’ll tell the truth.”

  Brandon remains quiet on the other line. Finally, he speaks. “You know Jordan’s taking out Jojo tonight, right?”

  I clench my jaw and ball my fist. “Yup,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Are you gonna do something about it?”

  My mind wanders to lunch time when she informed me to get lost. My first instinct tells me to fight for her, but she doesn’t mess with people’s minds. She’s very forthcoming when it involves her wants. And she was definitely clear today that she wanted nothing to do with me after we find Alexa. I’ve been the object of this frankness before —three years ago when she told me she preferred never to see me again. She triggered that memory when she rejected me in the hallway, and I remembered why I put up a wall to protect myself from her. It’s been more confusing this past week when we rekindled our friendship and something more — or so I thought.

  “Bro, you still there?”

  Brandon’s voice brings me out of my thoughts. He changes the subject, but the next topic isn’t any better. He discusses the school newspaper, and I’m reminded of Wayne’s account on the three of them behind the gym. I don’t know how to bring it up, but Brandon wants
to discuss Lexie. He sounds exhausted, making me decide to choose finding another time to investigate. My friend is lamenting on his missing girlfriend and needs the support—the likely reason for swallowing his pride to reach out to me.

  He and I talk for an extra half hour until he gets off the phone. When we hang up, I take a shower to get ready for supper. As I pass by my window, the sliver of light underneath Jo’s curtains disappears. She’s leaving for her date. I put on a shirt and exit my room. Damn, I’m a glutton for punishment.

  ***

  From the parlor, overlooking the Ligaya house, I can see Jo standing on her front porch, fussing with her wild hair. I furrow my brows as I take a mental note of her outfit: a black sweatshirt, multicolored leggings, and Nike sneakers. I scratch my head. Maybe I got the day wrong because she’s not dressed for date night. I open the door and exit my home. The air outside chills my bones, and I zip my jacket as I cross the divide that separates our homes. “I may have been out of the dating scene, but I’m told athletic wear is still not the norm for first date outfits.”

  Her head snaps in my direction, eyes hidden behind the mass of curls that fell over her face. Then, she blows her bangs off her eyes as if making sure it’s me who is approaching her.

  “I mean,” I add, as I stop at the bottom of her porch steps. “I, personally, will marry the next girl who prefers tracksuits over fancy clothes, but I don’t think Jordan is that kind of guy.”

  She laughs, her tangled hair bouncing in tandem with her chuckles. “Ok, relax with the marriage talk. I’m attending an MMA class first. Then, I’ll shower and get ready there.”

  “Are you riding your bike to the gym?”

  She shakes her head. “Jordan will pick me up and bring me there.”

  That information punches me in the gut. He gets to take her out tonight and watch her fight. Lucky bastard.

  I walk up the steps to join her. As she watches me climb up, I remind myself that I have no right to dictate who she chooses. Similarly, she doesn’t have the authority to decide whether I stay with or leave Bianca. When I reach her, I gaze at her face. I ended my relationship, and she’s starting a new one. I guess it’s my turn to watch from the sidelines.

  “Don’t get upset, Joy, but your hair is a tangled mess,” I say to her softly.

  She laughs. “Mama and Aunty Helen aren’t here, and I’ve been trying to braid this bird’s nest for the past hour. Oh well.”

  Her orphan Annie look is adorable. Jo is the most gorgeous in her natural state, but Jordan is a typical teen and may not appreciate a flawed goddess. If she likes him, she deserves a fighting chance. And if I want to be her friend, I should help her out.

  “Woman, when are you ever going to learn to braid your hair?” I said with an exaggerated sigh. “Give me your comb and turn around.”

  She stares at me and says nothing — speechless, I’m sure. She never had the dexterity to braid, and she’s hopeless at fixing her hair herself, being the tomboy that she is.

  I was a Boy Scout, and when we were kids, I loved practicing my rope knots on her hair because it was so long and thick. As a bonus, braiding was easy for me, and I would do that for her when her unruly mane impedes our adventures.

  “Hurry, Jo,” I said, coaxing her. “He’ll be here soon.”

  Finally, she digs in her bag and gives me her comb. Then she turns around and fluffs her hair for me.

  “This is so weird.”

  “Why?” I shrug. “I used to do this for you when we were kids.”

  “Yeah, note the phrase ‘when we were kids.’” She chuckles.

  “Would you rather leave it as is? You won’t even be able to put your head gear on,” I said.

  “Ok, mom. And thanks for the thinly veiled insult.”

  I laugh as I comb out the knots in her hair. Mama Nilda started from the ends when she combed her curls, and I still remember the technique. But as I do this task, my nearness to her makes me remember something else. Her familiar scent reminds me of our recent sleepovers, and how much I missed her last night. I had to fight myself from texting her to come over to my house.

  Finally her hair is tangle-free, and I begin to plait it. As I weave the strands, I hear her chuckle. “What’s up?”

  “Do you recall doing the taut-line hitch on my hair, and it got completely knotted that you couldn’t untangle it?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I pissed off your mom so bad, she was going to get a TRO, if she could.”

  “Thanks to you, I ended up getting a bowl haircut to cut off the knots, and I looked like Jack Black in Nacho Libre. Ass.”

  We both laugh as we relive that memory. “Sorry, Jo. I’m making it up to you now. This braid is off the hook.”

  “It better. You owe me for a whole year of bad haircut.”

  I reach the bottom, and she gives me her hair tie to finish the plait. I swing her braid over her shoulder and turn her around to face me.

  She smiles, and I can tell she’s grateful for the help. “How do I look?”

  Like my next girlfriend. Like a 100 times lovelier than Aphrodite. Like Cupid shooting me with his arrow. “Meh,” I said and shrug. “You don’t look like Medusa anymore. It’ll do.”

  Her smile spreads from cheek to cheek. “All good, then. I’m ready to roll.”

  My heart aches. I need to leave before I beg like I did when I was fourteen. “Enjoy your date. See you tomorrow.”

  I turn and descend the steps. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, she calls out to me. I spin around, wishing she had changed her mind on Jordan.

  She bites her lip, and her eyes flutter. Then she clears her throat, and smiles. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

  I nod. I wanted her to say that she was choosing me, but I guess that would be my little secret. For now.

  Chapter 42

  Josephine

  Julian dives with perfect precision. He remains underwater for a few minutes and resurfaces halfway into the Olympic sized pool. My eyes stay glued to him as he freestyles the remaining distance and flip-turns when he reaches the end to continue his lap. Julian in the water is an art form, and as always, I’m mesmerized.

  My phone vibrates, breaking my trance. Jordan texted me, and I chuckle because the animal picture he sent me was silly. After I respond, I put my cell back in my pocket and daydream on our dinner last night. I plant my elbow on the counter and rest my cheek on the palm of my hand. I must admit that it was fun. He was charming, funny, and romantic. I’d say it was a success, but no one has ever asked me on a date before, so what do I know?

  Twenty minutes later, as I set a bottle of Evian in the fridge, I pick up a familiar shrill voice. Bianca. I can’t help myself, and I watch. Julian is out of the pool, wiping his body with a towel, as his girlfriend stands in front of him. His 6’2 frame towers over her slender one, and once again they’re picture perfect.

  They talk in hushed tones, and Julian has his brows furrowed. I marvel on their conversation, but I’m not curious enough to find out. Turning away from the counter, I keep myself busy until a slight thirst, make me crave for a soda. I grab my knapsack and search for my wallet. As I rummage through it, I glimpse a silky scarf on the bottom of the bag. My forehead creases as I wonder how I ended with this article of clothing. Then, I remember a week ago when boxes fell on me while hiding in Alexa’s closet. I used this same backpack. I must’ve placed it inside on accident when I ran out of the wardrobe. As I pull it out, something shiny drops to the ground. I pick it up and dangle it from my fingers. It’s a gold pendant shaped like an eye. Strung on a 32 inch chain, it embedded little purple gemstones forming a flower within the eye-shaped ornament. “What the hell?”